Post-Performance Trauma Is Real. Here's How To Protect Yourself

Even though it's been a year since he took his last bow in the piece, Kidd Pivot dancer Jermaine Maurice Spivey still feels the aftermath of touring in Crystal Pite and Jonathon Young's Betroffenheit. The harrowing piece chronicles Young's own journey through tragedy, with dancers embodying his grief, trauma, guilt, addiction, euphoria and glee. "We endured an emotional negotiation each night because of how much the show cost. It was a weird kind of dread, because you wanted to pay the full cost. Otherwise you couldn't do the show justice."

Dance psychologist JoAnne La Fleche says there's little research on the emotional fallout from challenging performances like Betroffenheit, but dancers with poor self-care may be at risk of developing secondhand trauma or PTSD-like symptoms. These can range from fatigue, anxiety and depression to flashbacks and panic episodes.

The "weird dread" Spivey describes is not uncommon. La Fleche points out that our brains activate in the same way whether we're imagining something or experiencing it in reality. Severely violent and traumatizing roles are rare, but even minor challenges, left unaddressed, can emotionally debilitate a dancer over time.

Dancers tend to downplay or ignore discomfort, and in doing so, eventually diminish their self-awareness and overall wellness, and heighten their risk of injury. Being mindful of your own needs and limits when performing emotional roles is key to maintaining a healthy relationship to the work.

The Preparation

Just as the brain experiences difficult images as reality, the same is true for positive ones. Next time you're gearing up for a tough show, make imagery an integral part of your warm-up. Picture your body inside a dome of light. "It's an energetic field that protects you without closing you off from the outside world," La Fleche says. Then do a body scan guided by your breath and set boundaries from the inside out. That way, you're ready to care for your emotions when you go onstage.

Evelyn Lilian Sanchez Narvaez, a New York City–based freelance dancer who creates vulnerable solos and performs with Miguel Gutierrez, brings tokens of nature—such as shells collected during a recent tour to France—to the performance venue as a way to energetically warm up the space. "It's a piece of me that's tangible, something that makes me understand my power," they say. [Sanchez Narvaez uses she/her/they/them/ella pronouns.] The practice of consciously collecting sensory information, whether it's internal images or visible reminders, can help you feel in harmony with your surroundings and bring that sense of safety onstage.

Evelyn Lilian Sanchez Narvaez

David Gonsier, Courtesy Sanchez Narvaez

The Performance

When Audrey Rachelle started performing regularly in Punchdrunk's Sleep No More, she quickly realized it was unsustainable to draw on her own life experiences in order to sink into her roles. La Fleche warns that without cultivating distance, dancers may over-identify with a role. "You have to get into an 'as-if' mode," she says, "without becoming the character."

Audrey Rachelle

Aeric Meredith-Goujon, Courtesy Rachelle

The Reset

After a performance, practice shaking off the emotions you just built up. Jump and exhale as you land, shake your limbs, brush your body or imagine you're scrubbing yourself in a shower. "If you struggle to release, contract your muscles to the maximum and then suddenly let go as you audibly exhale," La Fleche suggests. Post-performance can also be a good time to vocalize or cry. If you want to avoid casual post-show conversations after a challenging performance, time your cooldown so you leave the theater after the audience, recommends Spivey.

It's important to fight feelings of isolation and negative self-talk after a show, says La Fleche, which can contribute to emotional vulnerability. Rachelle debriefs with each dance partner to touch base as real people, not just characters. "Talking to your colleagues prevents you from making up stories in your head," she says. Sanchez Narvaez thanks the space, the crew and fellow performers. "If you're thankful for being pushed, you're able to understand that the performance was a gift," they say. "When you return to that memory, you have a sense of gratitude instead of anger or frustration."

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In the new film Shirley, Elisabeth Moss stars as Shirley Jackson, the horror writer who rose to fame with her 1948 short story "The Lottery." The controversial hit led to the most mailThe New Yorker had ever received about a work of fiction. Jackson went on to write hundreds more short stories and numerous books, including The Haunting of Hill House, which was adapted into a Netflix series in 2018.

In the film, a young couple moves in with Jackson and her philandering husband, a professor at Bennington College. Shirley initially resents this intrusion, and the ensuing drama inspires her next novel. Like one of her stories, the movie is a psychological thriller, where the line between imagination and reality is blurred.

<p>"About six weeks to a month before we shot, Josephine sent me a storyboard and a whole lookbook. I found that really inspiring because I often struggle, in my own work, to communicate all my ideas. I thought, why don't I make lookbooks?" Driscoll said in a recent conversation.</p><p>After rehearsal, we headed to a hotel for the night. As a concert dancer, even this indie film felt lavish to me: All our meals were provided and we each got our own hotel room. The next morning we were up early to head back to set for hair and makeup. This was a long process, but watching the hair and makeup team get everyone into 1940s glam was one of my favorite parts of the experience.</p><p>The costume team sourced almost all the clothing from vintage stores, so most of what we were wearing was completely authentic to the time period. We were included in the crowd scenes, which showed students coming and going from class, as well as a few others, so we changed between different costumes throughout the day, sneaking in extra rehearsal time here and there.</p>

<p>To help direct movement in certain parts of the film, including crowd scenes and an eerie dream sequence, director Josephine Decker brought on choreographer <a href="https://www.dancemagazine.com/search/?q=Faye+Driscoll" target="_self">Faye Driscoll</a>, who has choreographed extensively for theater and film in addition to her own performance work. Driscoll also worked with Decker on the acclaimed indie film <em>Madeline's Madeline</em>.</p><p>At the last minute, the production team decided to cast dancers for a few scenes. I was one of them, and the whirlwind experience was my first commercial gig. I answered a casting call on a Tuesday, and by Friday I was in a van being driven to Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, New York, where <em>Shirley</em> was filming on location. There were three other dancers—Tara Sheena, Lyric Danae, and Allegra Herman. We had just one afternoon to rehearse our main scene, which was shot the next day.</p><p>Our dance scene was the dream sequence, where we appeared alongside actress Victoria Pedretti, whose character is something of a temptress. As we dove into our rapid rehearsal process, Driscoll started by showing us a collection of images she and Decker had compiled to inspire the scene, ranging from sexy to grotesque.</p>

<p>By the time we got to our dance scene, the sun had gone down. We were working in and around a large tree, and the crew had set up a single massive light to illuminate the area. It was late in the day and everyone had been working since early that morning. We were told, basically, to just go for it. We performed several different movement sequences that Driscoll had put together, with the camera rolling the whole time.<br></p><p>"Those days there were like tech, dress, and a show, but with no catharsis," says Driscoll. "I love working in film, but so much of it really is delayed gratification."</p>

<p>With no real-time feedback, it's hard to tell whether what you're doing is working or not—but the crew and other actors on set were enthusiastic. "I remember people being so blown away, which was so interesting, because that wasn't something I would put on stage. But it was nice to see, because as dancers we labor and labor away for the people who love this thing that we do. And that's part of what is so valuable, that we have this community. But to get to do something like this that was a little bit weird, and a little bit outside the mainstream, it gives us a boost," says Driscoll.</p><p>Of course, we left the set knowing that everything we did could end up being cut from the film. This is partly true: Driscoll says that only a small snippet made it in. But even that little bit, as well as her work directing the movement of bodies in other scenes, shows how a dancer's perspective can enrich film.</p><p>"So many people are really not in their bodies, and that's surprising to dancers," says Driscoll. "A little bit of the information we have can go a long way."</p><p>You don't have to wait for theaters to reopen to see the movie—<em>Shirley </em>is available on Hulu and on-demand platforms like iTunes and Amazon Prime starting today.</p>